Rendezvous Noir
by Goldaylocks
Summary: Ever since the appearance of a mysterious, attractive stranger, Detective Wolf has found himself in a cold blooded murder case. As he digs deeper, the detective finds gruesome discovers-about the murder, himself, and the stranger that he has found himself growing passionate towards ((Noir, 1940s Wolf Among Us AU, BigbyxSnow among other pairings))
1. Chapter 1

_Rendezvous Noir_

_AN: This is a film noir au which I've wanted since the first time I played Wolf Among Us. ((And yes, this includes Fables characters as well. This is an AU))_

_So I made one myself. Enjoy_

_Chapter One_

_So_ this is Detective Wolf's office. It is a small, beat down hole in the wall in between a pawn shop and a delicatessen. The dreary, rainy day does not do much to help the office's look. It looks gray, dreary, even a bit sad. But the woman does not seem to care much. She must do what she can and Detective Wolf is her last hope. She takes a deep breath, runs her hand through her raven colored hair, and pushes the door open.

The woman finds the inside of the office to be even bleaker than the outside. The office is dark, the only light coming from a broken lamp. She can spot a desk, filled with paperwork and can smell the strong scent of tobacco throughout the tiny room. She hears footsteps. Then they stop. She focuses her vision to face an average sized man, scruffy and bronze skinned, standing before her.

He wears a stained shirt, once white but now almost yellow, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing hairy arms. His tie is loose and his hat is slipping off of his head. His hair is a deep brown and his eyes are an even deeper brown. He has a cigarette in one hand and wears a frown.

"Are you Detective Wolf?" the woman asks, unafraid of his somewhat menacing appearance.

He says nothing but stares down at her. She is petite with black hair, wavy and flowing past her shoulders. She is dressed in all black and the only contrast to the black is her fair skin and her red lipstick. Her eyes are a beautiful shade of blue and she wears a gold necklace that shines in the small office.

"Depends," he finally replies.

"Depends on what?" Her voice is cold, harsh. The detective raises a brow.

"Depends on who you are."

"My name is Snow White and I mean to make business with you."

"Snow White...you're that Crane man's assistant, aren't you?"

"I'd prefer if you called Miss White, _detective._" The detective remains silent, staring at her, studying her.

"You're married." The woman looks down at her left hand and stares at the silver ring on her finger. She is married. It is an unhappy marriage. Her husband often comes home late, smelling of cigarettes and perfume that is not her own. He spends the rest of the night on the couch, drinking gin and listening to the radio while she remains in bed, holding onto the pillow for comfort.

"I said I wish you to call me _Miss_ White." The detective nods. "Now, as a detective, you investigate things. Am I correct?"

"Yes, miss."

"We have a murder case on our hands, Mr. Wolf."

"_We_?"

"Did I stutter?" she asks, raising a full, raven brow. "Yes, we. I'm no detective; I'm only a secretary. I don't possess the skills that a trained, _professional _detective possesses. Now, will you allow me to hire you or not?"

Silence fills the office for a moment, stifling the two as much as the smoke of the cigarette does. The detective sets the cigarette down on his desk and stares down at the woman. From the look in her ocean colored eyes, he can tell she means business.

Business with _him._

"I'll allow you," he finally replies. "Now what murder case are you talking about?"

* * *

He stares out of the window, confusion and hatred running through his veins. He can no longer bear it. He can no longer bear this life he has. It is dull, filled with nothing but a wife who sleeps by herself in the coldest of nights. He can no longer bear the silence that surrounds the house. He can no longer bear the chicken and mashed potato dinner his wife cooks every night. He can no longer bear her dark hair or her red lips.

He needs someone else.

The man is notorious for having multiple women in his life and he knows that his raven haired partner knows this fact well. But, like a good wife, she stays with him. For she knows more scandal would be the last thing she and her husband need.

So she remains quiet.

When he leaves in the morning to go off with a Janice or a Lucy, he stares at his wife for a moment. She is in the living room, staring at him with wide eyes that reflect the pain that she silently bears. And he feels remorse. Remorse for what he has done and what he is about to do. He feigns work and goes off with these women, leaving his wife at the mercy of her boss.

She comes home after he does during the week. She is exhausted, trembling, her hair undone. She looks as if she wants to cry. But she does not. She simply walks into her bedroom and changes. She emerges moments later, wiping her eyes.

And he wants to tell her something. He wants to hold her closely and whisper to her that everything is going to be alright.

But it will not.

For he still loves her.

But there is no passion.

And what the prince wants is not the sincere, unconditional love of a wife.

He wants the fiery passion of a forbidden lover.

_Her sister._

* * *

A prostitute was murdered several days ago.

Decapitation was the cause of death.

The prostitute was found in front of the apartment complex that the raven haired woman and her husband live in.

The prostitute was found by the husband's hooligan son, Jack.

The first thing the hooligan did when he found her was run off, panicking. When his young stepmother heard the screams, she went outside to see what the problem was.

And then she saw it.

"She was just...laying there," she tells the detective, looking down at the office floor, "She looked so young...she looked as if she was going somewhere nice...her hear was all done and...I..."

"Did you call the police?" the detective asks as he pulls out another cigarette from his case. He can tell that the woman is terrified at the moment. She trembles slightly and her scarlet lips are parted slightly. Her face is flushed and her eyes are wide.

"Yes, Detective, I did."

"Are they doing an investigation?"

"No...no, I don't believe they are."

"So you want me to investigate?"

"That's why I came here." The detective smirks slightly. Even in her fear, the woman still manages to be witty.

"What's this girl to you? She's just another prostitute."

"S...she was just left there and no one deserves to die. Not a prostitute, not a lawyer."

"So I assume you want me to find her killer?"

"Your assumption is correct."

The two stare at each other for a moment and the detective slowly nods. He extends his hand for the woman to shake. The woman does so with a small, red nailed hand.

"You've got yourself a detective, Snow."

"It's _Miss_ White."

* * *

He lays next to her, tan hands running through the short, red curls. Her perfume is strong and he knows that his bed now reeks of it. Her arms are wrapped around him as he lights himself a cigarette.

His wife can never know. She can never know of the passionate, wild affair that he has with her sister. Her red haired sister with her wild clothes and her wild personality. Her wild sister who is as gorgeous as his wife is-if not even more.

No, she can never know.

It would-

"Break her heart," Charming whispers slowly. The redhead raises a brow and smirks.

"Break _her_ heart? Are you really thinking about her?"

"She's my wife."

"But I'm your lover."

The prince stares at her for a moment and nods slowly, setting the cigarette aside and pressing his lips against her as the passion between the two rekindles once more.

Once more, his hands wander across her body and his mind forgets about the raven haired woman whom he calls his _wife._

* * *

Miss White.

She is adamant about the name. That is what the detective should call her. And without protest, he does. The woman smiles gently at him as soon as he addresses by her preferred name.

"So, Miss White," he begins, lighting himself yet another cigarette. "You said your..._stepson _found the body?"

"And the head," she replies, nodding slowly. Wolf can only raise a brow and nod.

"And you said his name was...?"

"Jack. Jack Horner."

"Well, I think the best course of action would be to schedule a meeting with him."

"That would be suitable."

"How about tomorrow afternoon?"

"That's manageable." The two slowly smile at each other, a sincere smile that holds a degree of sadness in it. The woman's smile fades away as quickly as it came. "I'll see you tomorrow, Detective Wolf."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Snow."

"_Miss White._"

She stands up and, as mysteriously as she appeared, she disappears behind a thick cloud of smoke without a

_sound._


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Thank you so much for all the super positive reviews! I am so thankful for each and everyone of them! Thank you! And keep on reviewing, reviewing helps me to improve my writing :D_

_Chapter Two_

The scent of perfume travels throughout the large apartment. The two men who idly sit on the couch can smell it. They both know that Snow is going out. To where, they do not know. It is her day off and on her days off, she stays at home and busies herself with minute hobbies and activities. But today, she is breaking her tedious routine and is going out.

Her husband thinks she is going off to buy fancy dresses and jewelry. He sees no harm in his wife-his neglected, sad wife- leaving the house for a while. He only stares at her as she walks into the living room dressed in a black coat with her raven locks pulled up. He smiles at her as she walks past him. She looks at him and the younger man on the couch for a moment.

"I'm going out," she announces.

"Where to?" Charming asks casually as he takes a cigarette out of a carton that lies on the coffee table.

"Detective Wolf's."

"Detective _Wolf's_?!" Jack Horner interjects. "Are you _shitting _me?"

"Language, young man. You are under my roof," Snow replies, staring at him for a moment. "And yes, him."

"Have you mentioned him to me?"

"Yes, I have. You were the one who found the head." The room is silent for a moment before Jack lets out a groan. Snow raises a full brow and stares at Charming for a moment. "And you're coming with me, he wants to interview you." The blond groans once but stands up and goes into his room to grab his coat.

"Will you be making dinner?" Charming asks. Snow remains silent for a moment before shaking her head. She is slowly growing tired of doing all for the man who does not love her. For the man who brings other women into her house.

"Have one of your other girls make it, I'm sure you'll find no trouble finding one. You never do." And before he can respond, she walks out, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

The woman holds her head up high, exerting an air of confidence. She is not afraid, she is not nervous. She does not speak to the blond who struggles to keep up with her. She cannot. For she is in rage.

The rage that runs through her veins.

She does not regret what she told her husband. Perhaps, she never will. She is too angry to think about her comment now. She knows that her husband will go off with another woman tonight. She wishes that he would not, for she does love him. But he will. He will sleep with another woman tonight and get into _her _bed while Snow herself is shivering in her own bed, pining for a man who does not even care.

Her rage only continues to build up and she wishes she could begin to cry.

But she will not.

She has not cried publicly in ages. And she will not let some man be the cause of tears. She continues down the street, her head held up high, her back straight, holding back tears like she has done so ever since she was a girl.

As she continues to walk, her memories wander back to her girlhood. Her early years seem to have been blurred out and her first memory is her running through the woods, lost and afraid.

She shakes her head and closes her eyes. She opens them once more. Rain begins to fall in tiny drops, one or two hitting her nose. She looks up at the gray sky, wondering for a moment. Pondering her life.

And she wonders if she's ever truly escaped that forest.

Or if she is still looking for a way out.

* * *

The detective waits anxiously for her arrival. He has not stopped thinking about her.

She is an enigma to him. A beautiful, _delicious _enigma. He can almost imagine her sitting in front of him, a small grin on her scarlet lips. He can almost hear the stern voice that constantly tells him to call her 'Miss White.'

"Detective Wolf?" her voice calls out. He nods for a moment and hears the door open. Two figures walk in. The detective has forgotten that she was going to bring her stepson along. "Are you in there, Detective?"

"I'm here," he replies, standing up to go and greet the two. He extends a hand and the woman graciously takes it. He extends his hand to the blond, who stares at him with a raised brow for a moment. He looks up at the blond and realizes that this-Jack Horner- is the man who has been the cause of mischief for the past two months. "So you're the trickster that everyone complains about?"

"Sure," Jack mumbles, crossing his arms and stares down at the detective with a cross expression.

"Manners, Jack," the woman-the enigma- whispers.

"Take a seat," the detective begins, motioning to two chairs that are in front of his desk. The two do without a word. The detective takes a seat behind his desk and lights himself a cigarette. Two pairs of blue eyes-one a watered down, tired blue and the other a bright, lively one- stare back at him. "So, Jack. What exactly did you find?"

"Some hooker's head...I guess," he replies, his words merely a mumble. The detective can tell the young man was uncomfortable.

"Did you know this..._woman_?"

"I saw her walking around town a lot...She was obviously a hooker."

"What did...she look like?"

"Short brown hair...she was dead, okay. I was confused!" The detective remains silent for a moment. And he thinks.

_Faith._

He feels himself getting slightly nauseous. He knows Faith. He has talked to her a few times. She is a confused young woman who deserves more than what she has gotten. It simply cannot be Faith...anyone but her.

"Detective?" the enigma asks, her scarlet lips parting slightly. "Are you alright?"

"I...I'm fine." The scarlet lipped enigma frowns for a moment and then nods. The detective turns his attention to the long haired blond who is currently examining his split ends. "Did you ever catch her name?" The blond lets go of his hair and stares at the detective dead in the eye.

"No...no...wait, yeah...it was F..Faith? Yeah, Faith." The detective feels dread building up in his stomach. He cannot believe it. He can only sit there, in shock, with the cigarette between his fingers.

"Thank you, Mr. Horner, Mr- Miss White, that's all the information I need now. I'll give you a call when I need you." The blond scurries out of his seat and runs out the door. The woman, however, remains.

"Who was she to you?" she asks. The wolf raises his eyebrows and stares at her.

"Just someone I knew," he replies, looking down at his desk again.

"No, she wasn't." Wolf cannot say anything for a moment. "Were you one of her clients?"

"No, never. I just knew her a long time ago."

"We all knew each other once," she replies, her voice the softest of whispers.

"I guess we did."

"I...I think I'll go, I'll see you later, Detective." She smiles at him-a genuine smile- and walks out slowly. He can only watch her disappear once again.

* * *

_'We all knew each other once.'_

Indeed, they did. The wolf thinks of her statement over and over again. Once upon a time, she was a princess. Now she is a womanizer's wife who stares out the window every night, wondering if anyone will ever love her again.

Once upon a time, he was a villain. Now he is a detective, dedicating his talents to good. Trying to solve the murder of a prostitute that he once knew.

That perhaps, he once had feelings for.

But it is too late to dwell on the past.

The detective stares at the room that the princess was in only a few hours ago. The smell of jasmine and vanilla still lingers in the room. It is an intoxicating smell.

He once knew the princess.

But now he does not. Now he can only imagine what her daily life must be like. How she is.

For, she is a mystery. A beautiful mystery who disappears behind smoke and darkness.

A mystery that he is determined to

_uncovered._

_AN: AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THESE POSITIVE REVIEWS! PLEASE KEEP ON REVIEWING THANK YOU SO MUCH!_


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